A Little Inspiration
by Beauty Mouse
Summary: A collection of both related and unrelated oneshots inspried by quotes, songs, and perhaps a few prompts. Mostly Janto. Latest: Warning, Dark.
1. The Last Night

Last Night  
Skillet

* * *

_This is the last night you'll spend alone_  
_Look me in the eyes so I know you know_

* * *

It hadn't taken Jack long to find Ianto, his eyes red and his body battered. It chilled Jack to the bone to see how fragile Ianto was, how very mortal he was and how close he'd been to going where Jack could never follow. He'd forgiven Ianto for the betrayal a long time ago, but now… now he trusted him again. The wound to his pride had healed over with not so much as a scar.

"Jack," and the Welshmen sounds so broken, so frail.

"I'm right here, Yan," Jack answeres, stepping closer.

Ianto's blues eyes drifted to the ceiling, shimmering with tears, "I hate crying in front of you,"

Jack grins, despite himself, "Every time I come here it seems…"

Ianto lets out a choked laugh as he wipes his eyes. It's wrong, he shouldn't be making jokes, but the young man before him doesn't seem to mind. Jack watches the face turn serious once more.

"Why are you here?"

Jack flashed a winning smile, "What, you aren't happy to see me?" he waits a beat before continuing, "I wanted to make sure you were all right. I thought you'd be asleep by now."

Ianto turned away, his posture screaming tension. Tension Jack longed to ease, to soothe.

"They were human, Jack, all of them," Ianto whispered. Jack could fill in the blanks, Ianto wasn't asleep because the nightmares wouldn't allow it. Jack had nights like that. He carefully rested his hand on Ianto's back, ready to move if Ianto so much as flinched. He didn't, and Jack drew closer still.

"Is that what we're protecting, Jack? Is that who we risk our lives for?" There was such anger in his voice, and such sorrow. Youth.

"No." Jack answered, "We stopped them, didn't we?"

Ianto didn't respond.

"Didn't we?" Jack repeated, this time earning a nod, "We protect good people, we protect each other. We protect innocent people."

"Are people worth saving? Are we worth saving?" Ianto whispered, and Jack would swear he was leaning into him. Jack pulled him in further, kissing the top of his head.

"Yes, Ianto. You are worth saving."

Ianto slumped in his grasp, clutching his coat. He was trembling, but he wasn't sobbing. Not that Jack would have blamed him, he held him tighter. He could feel Ianto inhaling deeply, and Jack did the same. He smelled strongly of soap, and product. It was zesty and sweet, but it covered up Ianto's natural scent. He must have scrubbed himself raw.

"He said… he said we were nothing," Ianto murmured, "nothing but meat. I- I'm not sure he was wrong."

"He was," Jack said quickly, shifting and pulling away to make sure their eyes met, "He was dead wrong. You're so much more. You're clever, and brilliant, you make the best damn coffee in the universe. And you're brave. Tosh told me how you saved her. 'Meat' wouldn't do that, Jones, Ianto Jones."

Ianto swallowed thickly, and Jack could see the cut left by the cleaver move with the muscle. Those blue eyes were still so haunted. He was too young to have seen so much. Too young to have lost so much…

His flat was just as bare as when Jack had first turned up, after the cyberwoman. Still no clutter, no decorations, nothing to suggest it was more than a furnished flat without an owner. It felt… lonely. He studied Ianto, he was battered, and scarred, but hidden away Jack could sense the traces of loneliness. The lack of self worth. It had been a long time since he'd used his admittedly limited psychic abilities, but he could still read impressions if he tried.

He shouldn't have needed to. Who did Ianto have besides Lisa? And Jack himself had kept a professional distance between them since that night. How many other sleepless nights had Ianto endured in his cold flat?

Jack ached. He knew loneliness. He knew loss.

"Jones, Ianto Jones," He said, smiling as he stared into Ianto's deep blue eyes, "You are so much more than you know."

Confusion was etched into his features, but Jack only continued to grin. Telling him wasn't enough. He would teach him, show him. Ianto Jones was one of a kind, Jack had met enough people to be sure of that.

He may not be able to stop Ianto from ever feeling alone, he may not be able to chase away the loneliness that hounded his own footsteps, but he could try. On nights where it became too much they could try to find a solace in each other.

* * *

_The last night you'll spend alone_  
_I'll wrap you in my arms and I won't let go_


	2. Have You Got It In You?

Have you got it in you?  
Imogen Heap

* * *

_It takes a lot_  
_To be always on form_  
_It takes a lot_

* * *

Some mornings it was difficult for Ianto to find the strength to even lift the covers. Some mornings nothing felt worth the time. And while a part of him said he should say something, see someone, most of him said to pretend everything was fine. He had always been such a great liar, and sometimes the lies were easier than trying to do something.

So he lied.

And he pretended.

He served the coffee, cleaned the Hub, sorted the archives and no one spared him a second glance. He stocked the supplies, he drove the SUV, and he never said more than a few words at a time. He ordered the food, doled it out, but he rarely ate. When he had started at Torchwood Three he hadn't considered how alone he would feel.

When he went to Lisa, it was almost worse. Seeing her so lost to drugs she couldn't speak, or watching her experience so much pain she couldn't breathe, made his soul ache. He couldn't help the sinking feeling that he wouldn't be able to save her. He wasn't smart enough, he wasn't strong enough. And when she did manage a word or two her voice now held a mechanical timbre.

He felt lost. Alone in the Hub in the middle of the night, watching the woman he loved slip through his fingers. Alone in the middle of the night with nothing but memories of a battle that shouldn't have happened. But Jack hadn't hired him because he was broken.

So he lied.

And he pretended.

And no one looked twice.

* * *

_Or maybe not..._


	3. Urgent

Urgent  
Foreigner

* * *

_Sometimes I wonder as I look in your eyes_  
_That maybe you're thinking of some other guy_

* * *

Everyone thought they knew how their relationship worked. Jack the flirt, Jack the insatiable. Jack was the one who was always out on the prowl and eager for his next conquest. He was the man who would do anyone if given the chance and the inclination. He was the 51st century man without the hang-ups of monogamy, of courting. He was the man with the pheromones.

But that had not been him for a very long time.

He'd lived on Earth long enough that sex didn't hold the same spark. Oh, it was good, felt good, but he no longer had the chance or the inclination to pursue it as he had when he had been younger. When he had felt alive. He still flirted, and teased, but he didn't follow through. One night stands weren't an option, a real relationship wasn't either. Friends with benefits teetered close to the edge.

And then there was Ianto Jones.

Ianto the quiet one, Ianto the romantic, Ianto the loyal. The poor soul who had fallen in love with the cad. The poor soul who endured Jack's infidelity, his lack of commitment. The poor soul with no one else.

That had never been him.

Ianto Jones was the one who slipped away at night, the one eager for his next conquest. It was their secret and theirs alone. And Jack didn't mind.

He understood, even if he didn't understand Ianto's shame. He was a young man, perhaps a bit more virile than some. Perhaps a lot more virile. Ianto's third day at Torchwood Three Jack had caught him in the showers. Obscene noises echoing while the team had been sent to retrieve something. The expression on the Welshman's face had been priceless.

Jack caught him again, flush faced and gorgeous, less than a week later. It was then that Jack had taken charge, spurred on by the level of responsiveness Ianto exhibited. Soft, slick skin and trembling muscle. Afterwards, Jack had taken to monitoring him whenever he had the chance. The way he'd duck out and head for the nearest pub only to leave moments later with a young woman.

Sometimes, they didn't manage to leave the grounds.

The raw libido surprised him, Ianto had always seemed so shy, and there he was rutting outside a pub. Angling his hips and thrusting until ecstasy overcame him. Jack would admit to keeping some of that footage, and feeling some of the old hunger return.

Later, much later, Jack had spoken to him about it. Ianto had turned mortified and murmured something about hypersexuality in tones that conveyed the agony he felt over it. 21st century humans. It was then that Jack offered himself with no strings attached. At first Ianto had been offended, and Jack hadn't understood why until some time had passed.

A few days had gone and Jack suddenly found himself with his hands full of gorgeous Welshman in desperate need of, 'something, anything, please!' He'd been happy to oblige.

The beginning of their relationship, warped and twisted and skewed as it was. Late nights, stolen moments, soft pleas and rough fucks. Jack felt alive again, the hunger resurrected. They were good. Jack knew he wasn't the only one, he could pull up the CCTV and find plenty of X-rated scenes with Ianto. He understood that there would be nights when Ianto needed someone else. Needed a blonde, a redhead. It didn't matter.

Because some nights Ianto did need him.

Some nights Ianto would stumble in, reeking of sex and perfume, and press himself into Jack. All want and need and urgency. Flushed skin, dark eyes… beautifully out of control.

And Jack accepted him.

And Jack satisfied him. 51st century stamina was a wonderful thing.

Many months after the incident with the cyberwoman Jack wondered if Lisa had known. If she had accepted it, or if Ianto had tucked that part away. A hidden layer of himself covered by shame. Had she been horrified at his need to cheat? Had she tried to satisfy him? Or had she been oblivious? Ianto was no stranger to secrets. Not that it mattered, only idle curiosity. He would never ask.

He wondered at the shame too. Ianto watched Owen do the same night after night, so why should he be looked down upon for his sexual appetite? Jack would keep his secret though; Jack would do his best to keep up. He would erase the footage, provide the alibis. He would be there when Ianto needed him. Needed to be shoved against the wall or dragged into bed. Jack rather liked that part. He liked being the one who wore Ianto out.

The others could believe that he was the cheat, the cad, the flirt. The others could believe that Ianto was the loyal, the enduring, the patient. Jack knew the truth. Jack knew the hunger hidden away.

And he didn't mind at all.

* * *

_But I know, yes I know, how to treat you right_  
_That's why you call me in the middle of the night_


	4. Perception

Perception

* * *

_Love is not blind; it simply enables one to see things others fail to see_

* * *

The Doctor peered at Ianto closely, studying him, observing him with those intelligent brown eyes. Ianto, for his part tried to ignore the strange man who had stopped for a short visit. Something about a tour Jack promised, at least that was what he managed to catch and it made sense. Jack loved to show off the Hub, and he would definitely want to impress his Doctor.

"Would you like some coffee?" Ianto asked, his professionalism masking his discomfort. He wasn't used to being stared at with such intensity.

"Nah, not really a big coffee drinker. Causes bad breath and stains the teeth. I rather like these teeth. I could use some tea though, if you have some." The doctor responded. Loquacious was the first word that filtered through Ianto's mind. A simple request for tea would have been enough. It was probably the jealousy that had him so tetchy, and he should control it better.

"Of course, sir," Ianto replied.

"No, not 'sir', just 'the Doctor.'" The eccentric corrected, looking a touch disgusted at being call sir. Like it didn't sit well with him. Ianto offered a bland smile and the Doctor continued his contemplative stare. At least bringing the man, although Ianto supposed he should consider him an alien, something to drink would get him away from that stare.

He could hear Jack approaching the Doctor and asking what he thought of Torchwood Three. Jack was preening, Ianto could tell even if their voices drifted further away. He knew he should get over it. He knew he and Jack weren't 'a thing,' they merely dabbled. Still… no, Ianto reprimanded himself. He was sure the Doctor was a decent bloke minus some issues with staring, so he forced himself to concentrate on preparing some tea.

When he returned to the Doctor, Jack was gone again, and now their guest was wearing glasses.

"I wasn't sure how you take it," Ianto explained as he held up the trey with dispensers for sugar, milk, and honey. The Doctor grinned at him, briefly, before turning serious.

"Do you ever get lonely Ianto Jones?"

The Welshman eyed him curiously as he set the trey down, "Don't we all?"

"Hmm," The Doctor mused and reached for his cup of tea, "Oh! That's brilliant!"

Ianto smiled a little, "You should try my coffee."

The Doctor laughed, and Ianto moved to take his leave when the Doctor stopped him, "If you've got the time, I'd like to ask some questions."

"Of course," Ianto replied. He assumed they'd be about Torchwood, possibly about Torchwood One. The Doctor had been there that fateful day, the entire building had been whispering about it.

"You weren't popular in school, were you?"

Ianto's eyebrows shot up, a bit personal and tactless. Such a charmer, this one, but he forced a smile and answered, "Not particularly. I never stood out."

"Have you ever stood out?"

"…No. I keep to myself." This conversation seemed pointless, but if the Doctor wanted to suss him out he would let him. Perhaps then he'd stop staring so fixedly. Ianto couldn't help the slight fidget, the itch to get away from those eyes.

"And right now, you're really uncomfortable, but it's not the questions I'm asking. No." The Doctor paused and his entire tone changed, like he wasn't even talking to him anymore, "No. No, it's not possible, no. Oh, but it is. It is because here you are, Ianto Jones, the invisible man!"

"I'm sorry?"

"Oh, it's brilliant. Didn't you ever wonder why hardly anyone noticed you? All those good grades and no one ever considered you intelligent? Or why the Cybermen didn't bother to come after you?" The Doctor's pitch increased as he grew more excited, "You've got a natural perception filter! That's brilliant!"

Ianto blinked, "Like the lift?"

"Exactly. Well, not exactly, since you're an animate object and capable of moving and talking, but still. That's not usual. That's brilliant!" The Doctor expounded gleefully. "In all my travels I have never ever ever met a human with a natural perception filter. Do you mind?"

Ianto would have answered but the Doctor was already waving his sonic screwdriver and making various noises of fascination and satisfaction. It was then that Jack returned, hanging up his mobile.

"Hey, he's mine," Jack pouted.

"Sorry, Jack, this is just unbelievable. Imagine! A natural perception filter based entirely on… his confidence? Yep. Confidence that's what's influencing it." The Doctor babbled, but finally seemed satisfied enough to put away his screwdriver.

"So… when he's insecure, he disappears?" Jack asked.

"Well, no, disappear is a little too strong, he just… becomes harder to see," the Time Lord elaborated, "Like right now. He's clearly not sure of himself, I've really got to focus on him. And probably why you're talking about him like he's no longer here."

Jack blinked, and looked as abashed as Jack ever managed to look.

"It's all right. Clearly not your fault," Ianto piped in. He was still trying his best to ignore the way his skin crawled as the Doctor stared.

"You said it was confidence, right?" Jack asked, now also staring at him and making him uncomfortable with the scrutiny.

"Yes," the Doctor chimed, "Well, at least as far as I've gathered. It's sort of a feedback loop, he gets insecure, nobody notices him so he get more insecure and so on and so forth. He just gets more and more difficult to look at."

Jack grinned, "Let's try something."

He wasn't… He wouldn't… Ianto recognized that look. That wolfish glint in his eyes. But he couldn't be planning to do that in front of his doctor.

He was.

Jack had closed the gap between himself and Ianto, pulling the younger male's face toward him and lining up their mouths before leaning in and claiming a kiss. A deep one at that, the kind that made Ianto that little bit shaken. The heady kind, the kind Ianto couldn't help but return as his heart thrummed.

Jack slowly pulled away, still cradling Ianto's face.

"Wow!" The Doctor exclaimed, "Brilliant! I can see him perfectly now!"

Jack just grinned.


	5. Breakdown

Breakdown  
Breaking Benjamin

* * *

_I'm on a roll again_  
_And I want an end_

* * *

Ianto locked the basement doors and slipped the key into his pocket. He let his head rest on the door for a moment before pulling away and moving towards the main floor of the Hub. Lisa wasn't doing well, Ianto could tell. She'd stopped complaining about the pain, but in all honesty that made it worse. There were moments where she didn't seem like his Lisa at all. He wouldn't give up though. Lisa was hanging on, so Ianto would too. They would survive this together.

He'd only joined Torchwood Three a few weeks ago and he already had the layout memorized, even down to the cameras. He knew where to be to keep out of sight, and while he supposed he could simply wipe the footage it was easier to never be caught on film in the first place. Besides, continuous instances of missing CCTV feed were bound to be noticed. At last he'd reached the lift controls, the cog door kept record of how often it was opened rendering it useless for Ianto.

"You shouldn't be here,"

Ianto felt his spine grow rigid. Jack. He was dead. There was simply no way out of this. Ianto turned slowly to face the not-quite-angry Captain, who was standing outside his office in just a white tee and jogging bottoms.

"Neither should you," Ianto replied, face and tone neutral. Jack grinned and bounded down the steps.

"Perks of being the boss, I don't have to explain myself."

The pause that followed meant Jack was waiting for an explanation. An explanation Ianto didn't have yet. Would Jack believe he'd gotten caught up in work? It was worth a try.

"Consequences of being an employee, actual deadlines."

Jack laughed, and Ianto felt a smile tug at his lips as the tension seemed to slip away.

"I saw Suzie slipping you that paperwork for UNIT, I would have stopped her, but you're actually good at filling it out. I might start giving you mine." Jack teased, he finally reached the lift as well and was standing a lot closer than Ianto would have liked, "Funny thing is… I sent that paperwork out several hours ago."

And the tension was back. Jack was staring directly into his eyes and was merely half a foot away.

"So, why are you really here Jones Ianto Jones?" Jack demanded. His eyes were too old, they knew too much, and it felt like they could see right through him. They could see his helplessness and despair for a woman he might not be able to save. They could see the broken shell he had been reduced to after the horrors of Canary Wharf. They could see the liar, the coward, the man that wanted to scream and curse and kick.

Ianto looked away, fighting back tears. Jack's confusion was nearly palpable before he gently took Ianto's chin and guided him back. The older male leaned forward so that their lips brushed in an almost chaste kiss, and Ianto had his way out as well as an excuse for any future incidences. He kissed back, edging the kiss a little further along. Jack took a hold of his neck; it was strange to feel large hands gripping him instead of soft, delicate ones.

Ianto wasn't sure what to do with his own hands; with Lisa he would have rested them on her perfect hips. He decided then he wouldn't do that with Jack, so instead he grabbed two fistfuls of white cotton.

"So it wasn't my imagination," Jack said, pulling back with a self-satisfied grin, he leaned in again and dropped his voice to a whisper, "all those little glances, all those polite 'sirs'… You've been flirting with me, Jones."

_No_, Ianto mentally corrected, _I keep looking at you because I'm afraid that you know. I call you sir because you are my superior_.

Jack was kissing his neck and turning his knees to jelly. Ianto shouldn't be reacting like this, this was _Jack._ He wanted to pull away, run from Jack just as he had at the warehouse. Run from Jack as he'd run from the ruins of Canary Wharf. But Jack was holding him so gently, and it had been so long since anyone had touched him.

Touch was one of those things he never realized he missed, and Jack was so warm beneath his clothes. Jack was so warm and Lisa so cold.

_Lisa._

Ianto couldn't do this, he couldn't sleep with Jack and he really shouldn't be comparing the two. He couldn't pull away either. But Jack did.

"Go home," Jack said suddenly, and his voice was that of a concerned employer, "get some sleep. We can pretend this didn't happen, but I'm here. Ianto, I'm here, and I'm your boss. I know I was difficult when we met, but you're part of my team. I need you whole and healthy in those sharp suits." The man leaned over and summoned the lift.

Ianto froze. He didn't know what to think. Jack… Jack was always inappropriate, always on the hunt for sex, but here he was pulling away and sending Ianto home. It didn't add up, Ianto searched his impossibly old eyes for something, some hint, but Jack just smiled.

"Don't forget. I'm right here, whenever you're ready."

* * *

_Cause I feel you creeping in_


	6. The Cave

The Cave  
Mumford and Sons

* * *

_It's empty in the valley of your heart_  
_The sun, it rises slowly as you walk_

* * *

7:58

Ianto stared at the glowing digital display as he sat, resting his arms on the granite island top in his kitchen. Jack had returned, after three months that felt like three years. Back and acting as though nothing had changed, as if he hadn't left them with nary a word. And Ianto let him.

Theirs was not a fairytale love, if it could be called a love at all. It was not hand holding and pillow talk, it was not long moonlit strolls on the beach, it was not dinners out and films. There were no ballroom dances. For them it was late nights and secrecy, they warmed each others' beds. Jack couldn't offer him more, perhaps for Gwen. Perhaps for her he'd settle down, buy her flowers and chocolates and whisk her around the city. For them there would be dating and dancing and if Gwen lived long enough… marriage?

Not for him though. Not for Ianto Jones. He was too plain, too stoic. Gwen confronted him, questioned him. She was exciting and brave and clever… and a challenge. Forbidden fruit because she loved another. Supposedly, at any rate. But Ianto wasn't her. Jack would bide his time, make do, and yes, Jack cared for him, the man wasn't coldhearted, but Ianto would always come second.

Ianto was the consolation.

And it _hurt_.

Of course it hurt. Ianto tried to placate himself, to tell himself that Jack simply couldn't devote himself to one person. And it wasn't that he needed flowers and chocolates or any of those things, but if he could just _know_ he was more than a tumble between the sheets. More than… eye candy. Ianto bristled at the nickname.

7:59

Ianto shut his eyes and willed away the ache in his heart. He loved Jack and it hurt. All the time. Constant little reminders that he was in love with someone who wouldn't love him in return.

He hadn't always loved Jack. For a long time they were simply bed partners and it was fear of the cold, not love, that led him to Jack's chambers each night. Now it was both, and he hadn't realized until Jack and Tosh went missing. And he's struggled so hard to deny it, to prevent himself from loving Jack, because there was no happy ending. Never a happy ending for whatever story they weaved together.

But how could he stop it, when he'd already fallen in love? Jack was the dashing hero, the witty rogue, the charismatic leader. He was smart, handsome and funny. He was clever, dazzling and outrageous. Jack was larger than life. Ianto was… a blip in time.

That was all he seemed to think about the last few days. Ianto was practical by nature, he knew what he meant to a man like Jack. Nothing. How could he compare when Jack had seen the wonders of the galaxy? The universe, the past, the future? He was Ianto Jones, the exceedingly average. He wasn't enough for Jack. Maybe Gwen was, but not him. Not the quiet little Welshman who floated on the edge of everyone's notice.

But Ianto loved him anyway. Loved Jack so much it scared him. So much that he dealt with the sick pang in his chest with every flirt, every word, every look. He bore the jealousy that churned inside of him, and he let the knowledge that he was second to Gwen sear into his thoughts without speaking a word.

8:00

He was supposed to meet Jack at the Indian restaurant. Their first date. The one that made his stomach tie itself in knots. The one Jack asked him on because Gwen was engaged now. The one he had gone so far as to dress up for, but not far enough to walk out the door because reality hit him.

Jack didn't love him.

Jack would never love him.

And he couldn't deal with the pain right now, because this outing meant nothing to Jack. He was scared of the cold and looking for someone to lead him through the night. But tonight Ianto hurt too much.

He didn't want lies and false promises. He didn't want pretending. He didn't want to comfort Jack, though he knew the sting of rejection well.

Tonight he wanted to drink away his love for Jack Harkness.

So he let the clock hit 8:01 while he poured himself a glass of the scotch he'd bought in celebration of Jack's return. He swirled the amber liquid in his glass as the time read 8:02 and then he took a swig. By 8:04 he'd loosened his tie and removed his jacket. He poured another round of scotch.

Perhaps tomorrow he would apologize and give in. Accept the fact that while Jack may never love him, a part of him was better than nothing. Jack would settle for a plain Welshman and Ianto would settle for a man who didn't love him.

But that was tomorrow and this was tonight.

So when his mobile rang at 8:14, he ignored it.

* * *

_So make your siren's call, and sing all you want_  
_I will not hear what you have to say._


	7. Don't You Wanna Stay?

Don't you wanna stay?  
Jason Aldean and Kelly Clarkson

* * *

_Don't you wanna stay here a little while?_  
_Don't you wanna hold each other tight?_

* * *

7:56

Jack was equal parts nervous and excited as he entered Juboraj. He'd dressed a bit nicer, adding a waistcoat to the dark blue button up. He'd artfully styled his hair, teasing it to messy perfection and checked himself in the mirror at least three times. It wasn't that he felt the need to impress Ianto, but he wanted to. And it was the least Jack could do.

He checked his wrist strap for the time. Four minutes to, he'd wanted to be earlier, but he didn't want to look desperate. His awkward proposition in the office had been bad enough. It was this stuff he wasn't good at, or he'd simply lost the knack for it. He hadn't wined and dined someone in a very long time. What if the rules had changed? Were there even rules for two men in the 21st century?

Before nerves could grip him he remembered it was Ianto Jones he was dating. If Jack did something wrong, he'd just roll his eyes or raise his eyebrows and fix the problem. That was how he operated. Ianto didn't argue, or demand that Jack find a solution like Gwen did, he simply took matters into his own hands. But for how immaculately he dressed and how incredibly organized he was, Ianto was surprisingly laid back.

Jack hadn't appreciated it before. He'd taken a lot for granted, Ianto especially. No more, he was going to be more open about what they had, which might not have been love, but was certainly worth exploring.

Ianto was attractive, intelligent, and wonderfully mischievous beneath that stoic exterior. And the sex was incredible. Not terribly romantic, but Jack was a fifty-first century guy, and an honest one at that. Ianto was brilliant in bed, willing to try almost anything and he brought a few ideas to the bedroom as well. He could keep up with Jack, and he didn't need 'I love yous.'

And that had Jack unsure again, because he didn't love Ianto… but he could. And what if Ianto didn't want that?

"How many?" A hostess asked, drawing Jack from the dark turn his thoughts had taken. She was cute, but too young for Jack to have an interest. She smiled at him prettily, a little bit more than the standard polite one.

"I have a reservation for two," Jack informed her, "under Harkness."

Her smile dimmed, "Oh, we have the table in the back, just as you requested. Would you like to wait for your guest here or at the table?"

"Here." Jack answered brightly and found a vacant seat in the waiting area while she moved on to the next patron. Jack consulted his wrist strap.

7:58

Jack started to feel anxious. Ianto was punctual, he arrived places several minutes early and if it was two minutes until eight he was cutting it uncharacteristically close. Jack checked his mobile and found no messages had been left. But this was Ianto, and he'd agreed to come, Jack knew he was being ridiculous. It was two minutes before he would be considered late, and then there was the standard deviations of various clocks to factor in.

Of course Ianto would be here, why wouldn't he? Since Jack had returned they had gotten along, they flirted, openly in front of the team which delighted Jack. There had been a few late nights at the Hub, which involved a lot of making up for lost time. And in the past two weeks, Jack had become absolutely sure of his decision to ask Ianto out.

The idea that they could work scared him, but the thought of not doing anything scared him more. Because during the year that never was Jack had learned. He found that regret tasted just as bad as lost love, and that he had a lot of regrets concerning Ianto. He knew he would lose Ianto one day, but he could lose him now and having to watch Ianto move on and knowing they could have had something…

And Ianto would die regardless. Jack refusing him didn't mean Ianto would live longer, just lonelier.

8:01

Now Jack was nervous. Had something happened? He considered calling, but thought better of it. He wasn't desperate, besides, Tosh and Owen were on guard tonight and if something was happening they would alert him. Maybe Ianto was just as nervous as he was and couldn't decide what to wear.

Jack decided to take a seat at the table and ordered a drink to occupy himself.

This wasn't a big deal, Jack told himself, in fact, this was something he could hold over Ianto's head for ages. Ianto Jones late for their first date. Had a nice ring.

At 8:03 the server had delivered Jack's water and Jack hadn't the heart to flirt with him. Three minutes was pushing it, wasn't it? For Ianto. Jack was usually late, but fashionably so. Was Ianto doing this deliberately?

Jack started drumming his fingers and then recoiled as memories of the Master resurfaced. He couldn't go there, he didn't want to go there. Tonight was supposed to be about Ianto. They were going to eat out, catch a show, and then tumble into bed. The Hub or Ianto's flat, Jack really didn't care as both places now smelt like Ianto.

8:07

This was ridiculous. Seven minutes late. He decided to call Tosh, and find out if something was happening.

"Nope, it's been quiet. Owen's fallen asleep, in fact." Tosh informed him.

Jack grasped at straws, "Is traffic bad?"

He heard her typing on her keyboard and could picture her pulling up the CCTV feeds, "It is busy for this time."

"Right, thanks Tosh, I'll see you bright and early. Oh, and wake Owen up." Jack told her and hung up. Perhaps Ianto had been caught in some unexpected traffic, the man wasn't an aggressive driver unless it was Torchwood business, and even then he was the least aggressive of their team. That settled Jack some.

8:14

Had something happened to Ianto? Fourteen minutes late and counting with no phone call? Or was Jack being stood up? Had Jack been reading into their… relationship? Yeah, Ianto was a guy and maybe he didn't need romancing the way a woman would, but… didn't they get along? What was wrong with a fun outing? Weren't they more than sex?

Jack dialed Ianto's mobile. It rang, and rang… and it rang some more.

His mouth felt dry. Was this payback because he'd left after they'd been doing so well, after he'd decided that he wanted more than secrets? But Ianto wasn't petty, and he had explained it was the Doctor he'd been chasing. No, Ianto wasn't here because he didn't want to be here.

But why not?

* * *

_Don't you wanna fall asleep with me tonight?_


	8. Everything Burns

Everything Burns  
Anastacia

* * *

_No tears left to wash away_  
_Just dairies of empty pages_

* * *

No more.

_No more._

He couldn't, he'd tried, oh he'd tried. Every day the same façade, the same lies. Same excuses. The same goddamn pain. The nightmares, the flashbacks. Too much, it was too much to live with. All of their screams, the stench of burning flesh, the hideous grating metal. A man couldn't be expected to live with memories like that.

Memories of smiles and laughs juxtaposed with death. So much death.

"What are you doing?"

Her voice is so mechanical now. Like them. Those things. Every day he watches as she becomes more and more like the monsters in his nightmares. He can't even call her Lisa, because she's _not_. She tries to be, but Ianto can feel it. She doesn't laugh like Lisa, she doesn't talk like Lisa. She dredges up old stories he's told to her late at night when no one else was in the Hub. Nights like tonight.

"Ianto, what are you doing?"

He turned to face her; she's just lying in that contraption. The thing he'd help built to keep her alive. He hadn't known it was too late. He hadn't realized leaving her would have been a mercy, for both of them. He'd been a coward and fool. Too scared to leave her to die, and too stupid to know he should have.

"What must be done," He said finally, and turned back around. Her face was still too much like Lisa's. The warmth wasn't there, her eyes were too… empty, but it was Lisa's face nonetheless. It was her face the monster hid behind.

"Sweetheart," she ventured.

Lisa's voice. But she'd used that trick a few times too many. Always when was on the cusp of undoing all their work. A few phrases in Lisa's voice had always been enough to bolster him. To keep him tethered to her side as she slipped through his fingers. But… he'd lost Lisa the moment those… abominations began converting her.

"Ianto!"

She sounded nervous now, and desperate to bring him to a heel. He was done though. No more. He wouldn't be her puppet. He wouldn't be manipulated. He wouldn't skulk around lying to Owen, to Gwen, to Tosh… to Jack. He'd never lie to Jack again, to any of them. He wouldn't hide in shadows, skirting out of social gatherings because he was afraid to feel anything for this new team.

"Ianto stop!"

Back to mechanical. She knew he saw through the act. She should have known he wasn't about to stop. He'd made his choice, and it wasn't her. He couldn't save her, and he couldn't go on pretending. He was so tired of lying. But no more.

He was almost finished.

"Stop human!"

The barest hint of a smirk quirked his lips as he continued. He didn't need to say anything. He wasn't much of a talker anyway, so he continued to spread the gasoline. He tossed the petrol can aside and picked up the next. This would be the most difficult part.

With purposeful strides he marched to the conversion table. He hardened his heart and opened the garishly colored container. He watched, numbly, as the fuel soaked her skin and dripped from the metal, the smell of petrol was noxious.

"Desist, desist, desist." She ordered and still he remained silent, pouring the oil over her until the canister was empty. Viscous liquid slowly dripping along her body, dripping off the gleaming metal of the converter.

"Lisa…" Ianto began, his voice thick with unshed tears, he took a moment to compose himself, "Lisa I love you. I don't know if you're still in there, but I love you, and… I'm sorry."

He stepped back and removed the lighter from his pocket. His fingers were slick with petrol as well and it took a few tries before the tiny flame sprang to life. It spread to his thumb before he flung it at the monster in Lisa's skin. The ignition was instant and it screamed, howled, pleaded as it burned. An all too familiar smell filled the room. And still the fire spread, to the life support system, to the ground, the flames raced and danced to her screeches.

Ianto shut his eyes as the warmth drew closer. At first, he didn't feel the flames as they spread to him. But then… then his screams joined hers. He cried out in agony as layer after layer of his flesh burned away. Hot, searing pain, he fell to his knees and coughed as smoke filled his lungs. His eyes opened and he saw Lisa, confined to the converter, as the fire scorched her, every bit of flesh and metal.

Eventually their cries were drowned by the alarm, and the door sealed itself. Footsteps pounded above him, then down the corridor.

Burning, burning, burning. The pain so sharp, he could see his skin blistering as the fire burned away his suit. But Lisa was burning too. A loud wail escaped and then she fell silent. His love, his life, gone. His tormentor, his monster, slain.

"Ianto! Ianto!" Jack's voice sounded frantic from the other side of the door. Too late. But Ianto hadn't wanted to be saved. He deserved this. He could hear the others shouting too. He couldn't move, even if he had wanted to. The stench of burning flesh hung in the air and the sheer agony radiated from every pore. Until nothing.

No more.

"_Ianto!_"

No more.

* * *

_Til everything burns, while everyone screams_  
_Burning their lies, burning my dreams_


	9. I'm Not Your Toy

I'm Not Your Toy  
La Roux

* * *

_Boy, your touches leave me mystified_  
_I wish I could believe in you_

* * *

They were dancing, dancing in front of dozens of people, and yet… Jack's eyes never strayed from Gwen. Not even for a moment. Ianto felt his heart shatter, only to reassemble into a stone. A heavy, jagged rock that throbbed rather than beat. But, Ianto was always prepared, he had expected it. He had known this moment was coming.

This seemingly perfect moment, bodies pressed close in a facsimile of lovers. Their motions were precise, they had practiced this dance in the privacy of Jack's quarters many a night. That was how Ianto had known. Jack had grown more and more affectionate as the wedding approached, and Ianto was no idiot. Jack was lonely and he a convenient substitute.

In a way, it was his own fault. Ianto was the one who made himself available, who offered a shoulder, a warm bed, a willing body. Could he really blame Jack for taking advantage? No, he couldn't paint Jack in that light.

Ianto was the villain of his own story for putting himself in this position. He was the one who let himself be fooled, who dared to believe if he waited long enough, if he tried to be everything Jack needed, wanted…

But love doesn't work like that.

Ianto might have been a fool, but he wasn't an idiot.

The music swelled, carrying them along in a smooth transition. Jack's hands were where they should be, their steps synchronized. Jack's eyes remained firmly on the bride.

This was it. This was their swan song, even if Jack didn't know it yet. Their first dance in public would be their last dance ever. A small, selfish, vindictive part of Ianto hoped Jack realized this was the end before the night was out. Not that his rejection would mean much, but maybe it would sting that it happened in conjunction with Gwen's absolute dismissal.

Ianto rested his head on Jack's shoulder, and perhaps instinctively Jack pulled him in closer. His arms wrapping around more securely, which normally left Ianto feeling content. Tonight it hurt.

Because tonight it wasn't convincing. Tonight Ianto couldn't reconcile the façade.

He might have been in love, but he wasn't an idiot.

How could he tell himself he was enough for Jack while the man refused to so much as look at him while they danced? How could he believe that Jack wasn't wishing for Gwen's daintier hands, for her body?

The music started to ebb and their swaying slowed. Ianto slipped his mask in place. Their time was up, their song, meaningless as it was, was over. The final notes played and slowly they parted.

Jack smiled at him, and bowed grandly as a new song queued up. "Another dance?" Jack asked, oozing charm and promises while he offered his hand.

Ianto fixed him with a polite, dismissive smile.

"No."

* * *

_It's all false love and affection_  
_You don't like me, you just want the attention_


End file.
